


Patience

by redundant_angel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cock Warming, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28690431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redundant_angel/pseuds/redundant_angel
Summary: Aziraphale is content to spend his afternoon organizing his books. Crowley has other ideas.------He blushes furiously at the thought. The idea of Crowley having him here, in this quiet corner of his bookshop in the middle of the afternoon with customers within earshot should have been an affront. Instead, it was terribly arousing.“Do you want me to stop?” Crowley asks.He gives Aziraphale a couple of long teasing strokes and grins when the angel ruts needily into his hand, cock straining against the constraints of his Victorian trousers. “Just say the word, angel, and I’ll go and leave you to your work-”“Don’t you dare,” says Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 228
Collections: Grow Better / Scribbling Vaguely Downwards - Holiday Swap '20, Top Crowley Library





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravendiana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravendiana/gifts).



> To my giftee: This fic is probably not what either of us were expecting but I hope you like it!

_How long could you deny yourself something you wanted?_

Aziraphale turns, only to find himself staring at the empty space between columns of shelves. He frowns. Certainly he’d heard someone speak, clear as a bell. He pokes his head out from behind the stacks. Nearby, a few customers reading quietly and minding their own business. With a shrug, Aziraphale turns back to his task; checking for loose bindings and humming absentmindedly as he does so.

_How long? A day? A month? Six thousand years?_

This time Aziraphale nearly bumps his head as he scrambles to his feet. He shoots an annoyed glance in the direction of the mysterious voice. “Crowley, you’re there. You can stop playing this ridiculous game.”

Nothing. 

Aziraphale turns back to the shelf once more, only this time he is only pretending to work. In reality, he is focused on tracking down his unexpected visitor. After a moment, the angel snaps his fingers and watches as a certain demon materializes before him. 

“Cheater,” Crowley smirks. 

“My bookshop. My rules," says Aziraphale. "I’ll do as I please.”

“I see. Well, in that case, why not try something a bit more fun than rearranging old books?” 

“Hmm. I’m sure you have plenty of ideas?” Aziraphale clicks his tongue, certain he is about to learn of (and then shoot down) another one of Crowley’s demonic schemes.

Crowley glances over his shoulder. Satisfied no one is watching, he removes his sunglasses. “Actually, I do,” he says, and closes in on Aziraphale. The angel’s back lands against the bookcase with a soft thud, and Crowley leans down, claiming his mouth with a ravenous kiss. 

To Aziraphale, the distraction is more than welcome. As much as he enjoys his books, he enjoys kissing Crowley a lot more. He eagerly kisses Crowley back, wrapping his arms around the demon’s shoulders. 

“Do you know, angel,” Crowley says, his lips still ghosting over Aziraphale’s mouth. “I was tempted by you right from the beginning. You were by far the most interesting thing in that garden. My own ruby red apple.”

Aziraphale sighs and shuts his eyes at the memory; the day they first met. “And you, you curious creature,” he whispers. “I was certain you’d been placed in Eden to tempt me into sin.” He looks up and stares right into Crowley’s golden eyes. "And I was right.”

“I won’t deny it,” Crowley grins. He dips down to kiss Aziraphale’s throat while skillful fingers loosen the buttons on Aziraphale’s trousers, snaking a hand between them to find Aziraphale’s thickening cock. Aziraphale’s head falls softly against the bookshelf as he arches into Crowley’s touch, his corperation suddenly alight with pleasure. 

“Crowley,” he swallows, his cheeks flushed pink. “There are customers in the shop! I… I should hope you aren't thinking of… em… having relations _here_ , in front of all these people?” 

“Mmhmm, I am,” Crowley says. His voice is low and sultry, his ‘smooth demon’ act in full swing. “In fact, I think I’ll bend you over and _fuck_ you right here, in front of the-” He glances at the titles on the shelf behind Aziraphale and falters slightly,“...arts and crafts section.” 

Aziraphale blushes furiously at the thought. They were in public. There were people, just steps away in the rotunda, quietly perusing through his shop. Of course he could turn Crowley away, or better yet, close the shop and chase everyone out so they could get down to business, but then, Aziraphale was open to trying almost anything once. More than once, if he liked it enough.

The idea of Crowley having him here, in this quiet corner of his bookshop in the middle of the afternoon with customers within earshot should have been an affront. Instead, it was terribly arousing.

Crowley’s eyes narrow as he gauges Aziraphale’s reaction. “Do you want me to stop?” He gives Aziraphale a couple of long teasing strokes and grins when the angel ruts needily into his hand, cock straining against the constraints of his Victorian trousers. “Just say the word, angel, and I’ll go and leave you to your work-”

“Don’t you dare,” says Aziraphale. He kisses Crowley again to prove his point. 

Crowley arches an eyebrow, amused. “Turn around."

Aziraphale does as he’s asked. He’s desperately aroused now, and the growing need to feel Crowley inside him far outweighs his concern over getting caught. After all, what was the point of being an ethereal being if you couldn’t make use of a convenient miracle here and then? His breath hitches as his trousers and underwear are roughly shoved down around his knees. It’s just enough to give Crowley room to work, but it still limits his movement, acting almost like a restraint. Crowley steps behind him, and the weight of the demon’s body pressing against his own sends an unexpected thrill of danger down Aziraphale’s spine. He wants to delve into _why_ , but can’t quite focus on right now. 

He hears Crowley unbuckling his belt and gasps a moment later as the demon’s considerable-sized effort slides between his thighs just below the cleft of his arse, hot and demanding. Crowley experiments with a few shallow thrusts, the friction spreading wetness between them, and a soft growl escapes his lips. “I could come just like this, angel,” he says,“fucking your perfect thighs.” 

Aziraphale nods in agreement, rutting impatiently against Crowley’s hips. It feels so good, he wouldn’t complain one bit if that was where this was going, but Crowley soon spreads his thighs apart, working Aziraphale open with miraculously slick fingers. 

The rigid heat of Crowley’s effort pressing up against his entrance sends a jolt of pleasure straight to Aziraphale’s own cock. It would take all but a quick swivel of Crowley’s hips to be inside him. Instead, maddeningly, Crowley holds still...and waits.

Aziraphale had been under the impression that they were to be quick about this, lest someone where to catch them. Besides, the anticipation was killing him. “Do hurry, dear,” he huffs. 

“Impatient, are we?” Crowley teases, his breath hot on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“A tad.”

“Let me tell you a thing or two about patience, angel.” He kisses the space between Aziraphale’s shoulder blades, lingering for a moment; clearly enjoying the warm snug place he’s found for his cock. “When I saw you in that prison cell in the Bastille, chained up like a pretty prize, I wanted, with every fiber of my being, to push you up against the nearest wall, tear aside those poncy clothes, and have my way with you. Just like I do now."

Aziraphale inhales sharply, the memory crystal clear in his mind. “Oh, my love,” he whispers, his entire body aching for Crowley’s touch. “I remember.” They’d spoken about that day many times since, but Aziraphale never tired of hearing it again.

“And the day when you brought me the thermos of holy water?” Crowley continues, purposefully dragging this out just to torture him, “I would have taken you anywhere, done anything for you. I wanted you so badly, Aziraphale. I would have waited forever.”

Aziraphale shuts his eyes, recalling how patient Crowley had been with him and for so long. He knows Crowley is only trying to make a point, but it reawakens something inside him, something stripped bare and raw. 

“Crowley, I can’t wait any longer,” he says, and Crowley responds. The demon pushes in, sinking into Aziraphale an inch at a time, and Aziraphale has to bite the back of his own hand to keep from moaning out loud at the feeling of being completely filled. It’s Crowley. all around him and inside him, and nothing else matters.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley murmurs; devastated with pleasure. He withdraws slowly and rocks into Aziraphale again, pinning them both against the shelf with the momentum. Aziraphale clutches onto the bookshelf, both for leverage and to keep himself upright. 

It’s a bad idea. The old wood creaks in protest as Crowley slams into Aziraphale again and again. As the shelf shakes, books begin shaking loose and one even tumbles to the floor. “Collateral damage,” he mutters, and he hears Crowley laugh. He arches back against Crowley’s hips, changing the angle and driving the demon deeper inside him, Crowley’s cock hitting his prostate with every drag. It feels so good, Aziraphale thinks he might fly apart. He realizes too late that he’s moaning out loud.

Crowley slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shh- angel, they’ll hear you!”

 _They bloody-well better not,_ Aziraphale thinks, letting Crowley smother his moans of pleasure, both the bookshelf and his trousers keeping him from moving more than a few inches in any direction. It dawns on him that he is going to come like this; with his cheek smooshed against a knitting manual aptly titled, “Fifty Shades of Stitches,” and with customers in his shop-- customers who most certainly knew by now someone was getting quite a thorough seeing-to just out of sight. Perhaps they were just too polite to say anything.

He comes hard with a groan and Crowley’s fingers slip past his lips. Aziraphale savors them with his tongue, sucking fervently, and the move has an unexpected effect on Crowley. He lets out a whimper like a wounded animal.

“Oh fuck, angel, I’m-” 

Crowley loses control, thrusting hard against Aziraphale, and filling him with heat. His forehead comes to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and they collapse against the overburdened bookshelf, breathless but so wonderfully sated.

Nearby, someone coughs. One snap and both he and Crowley are fully dressed, as though nothing had just happened. Somehow, they’d got away with their secret tryst behind the bookshelf. Barely. Crowley slips his sunglasses back on in a casual manner, as though nothing had happened, the shameless smile working at the corner of his lips the only tell. 

“Well,” Aziraphale says, smoothing out his waistcoat and trying not to blush. “I suppose, in the end, an apple worth waiting for is all the more sweet, is it not?”

Crowley shakes his head and flashes him a grin. “Can’t argue with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> For ravendiana.


End file.
